Lilly Bartlett’s cosy romcoms are full of warmth, quirky characters and guaranteed happily-ever-afters.
Lilly is the pen-name of Sunday Times and USA Today best-selling author, Michele Gorman, who writes best friend-girl power comedies under her own name.
To connect with Lilly Bartlett aka Michele Gorman go to:
www.michelegorman.co.uk
Blog: michelegormanwriter.blogspot.com
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Buy The Big Dreams Beach Hotel
Three years after ditching her career in New York City, Rosie never thought she’d still be managing the quaint faded Victorian hotel in her seaside hometown.
What’s worse, the hotel’s new owners are turning it into a copy of their Florida properties. Flamingos and all. Cultures are clashing and the hotel’s residents stand in the way of the developers’ plans. The hotel is both their home and their family.
That’s going to make Rory’s job difficult when he arrives to enforce the changes. And Rosie isn't exactly on his side, even though it’s the chance to finally restart her career. Rory might be charming, but he’s still there to evict her friends.
How can she follow her dreams if it means ending everyone else’s?
Extract from The Big Dreams Beach Hotel:
Chapter
1
New
York is where I fell head over heels for a bloke named Chuck. I know:
Chuck. But don’t judge him just because he sounds like he should be
sipping ice-cream floats at the drive-in or starring in the
homecoming football game. Rah
rah, sis boom bah, yay, Chuck!
Believe
me, I didn’t plan for a Chuck in my life. But that’s how it
happens, isn’t it? One minute you’ve got plans for your career
and a future that doesn’t involve the inconvenience of being in
love, and the next you’re floating around in full dozy-mare mode.
I
won’t lie to you. When Chuck walked into our hotel reception one
afternoon in late October, it wasn’t love at first sight. It was
lust.
Be
still, my fluttering nethers.
Talk
about unprofessional. I could hardly focus on what he was saying.
Something about organising Christmas parties.
‘To
be honest, I don’t really know what I’m doing,’ he confided as
he leaned against the reception desk. His face was uncomfortably
close to mine, but by then I’d lived in New York for eighteen
months. I was used to American space invaders. They’re not being
rude, just friendly. And Chuck was definitely friendly.
‘I
only started my job about a month ago,’ he told me. ‘It’s my
first big assignment, so I really can’t fuck it up. Sorry, I mean
mess it up.’ His blue (so dark blue) eyes bore into mine. ‘I’m
hoping someone here can help me.’
It
took all my willpower not to spring over the desk to his aid. Not
that I’m at all athletic. I’d probably have torn my dress,
climbed awkwardly over and landed face-first at his feet.
Keep
him talking,
I thought, so that I could keep staring. He looked quintessentially
American, with his square jawline and big straight teeth and air of
confidence, even though he’d just confessed to being hopeless at
his new job. His brown hair wasn’t too long but also wasn’t too
short, wavy and artfully messed up with gel, and his neatly trimmed
stubble made me think of lazy Sunday mornings in bed.
See
what I mean? Lust.
‘I
noticed you on my way back from Starbucks,’ he said.
At
first, I thought he meant he’d noticed me.
That made me glance in the big mirror on the pillar behind him, where
I could just see my reflection from where I was standing. At
five-foot four, I was boob-height behind the desk in the
gunmetal-grey fitted dress uniform all the front-desk staff had to
wear. My wavy dark-red hair was as neat as it ever got. I flashed
myself a reflected smile just to check my teeth. Of course, I
couldn’t see any detail from where I stood. Only my big horsy
mouth. Mum says giant teeth make my face interesting. I think I look
a bit like one of the Muppets.
‘Do
you have the space for a big party?’ he said. ‘For around four
hundred people?’
He
didn’t mean he’d noticed me; only the hotel. ‘We’ve got the
Grand Ballroom and the whole top floor, which used to be the
restaurant and bar. I think it’s even prettier than the ballroom,
but it depends on your style and your budget and what you want to do
with it.’
Based
on his smile, you’d have thought I’d just told him we’d found a
donor kidney for his operation. ‘I’ve been looking online, but
there are too many choices,’ he said. ‘Plus, my company expects
the world.’ He grimaced. ‘They didn’t like the hotel they used
last year, or the year before that. I’m in over my head, to be
honest. I think I need a guiding hand.’
I
had just the hand he was looking for, and some ideas about where to
guide it.
But
instead of jumping up and down shouting ‘Pick Me, Pick Me!’, I
put on my professional hat and gave him our events brochure and the
team’s contact details. Because normal hotel receptionists don’t
launch themselves into the arms of prospective clients.
When
he reached over the desk to shake my hand, I had to resist the urge
to bob a curtsy. ‘I’m Chuck Williamson. It was great to meet you,
Rosie.’
He
knew my name!
‘And
thank you for being so nice. You might have saved my ass on this one.
I’ll talk to your events people.’ He glanced again at my chest.
He
didn’t know my name. He’d simply read my name badge.
No
sooner had Chuck exited through the revolving door than my colleague,
Digby, said, ‘My God, any more sparks and I’d have had to call
the fire department.’
Digby
was my best friend at the hotel and also a foreign transplant in
Manhattan – where anyone without a 212 area code was foreign. Home
for him was some little town in Kansas or Nebraska or somewhere with
lots of tornadoes. Hearing Digby speak always made me think of The
Wizard of Oz,
but despite sounding like he was born on a combine harvester, Digby
was clever. He did his degree at Cornell. That’s the Holy Grail for
aspiring hotelies (as we’re known).
Digby
didn’t let his pedigree go to his head, though, like I probably
would have.
‘Just
doing my job,’ I told him. But I knew I was blushing.
Our
manager, Andi, swore under her breath. ‘That’s the last thing we
need right now – some novice with another Christmas party to plan.’
‘That
is our job,’ Digby pointed out.
‘Your
job is to man the reception desk, Digby.’
‘Ya
vol,
Commandant.’ He saluted, before going to the other end of the desk.
‘But
we do have room in the schedule, don’t we?’ I asked. Having just
come off a rotation in the events department the month before, I knew
they were looking for more business in that area. Our room occupancy
hadn’t been all the company hoped for over the summer.
‘Plenty
of room, no time,’ Andi snapped.
I’d
love to tell you that I didn’t think any more about Chuck, that I
was a cool twenty-five-year-old living her dream in New York. And it
was my dream posting. I still couldn’t believe my luck. Well, luck
and about a million hours earning my stripes in the hospitality
industry. I’d already done stints in England and one in Sharm El
Sheikh – though not in one of those fancy five-star resorts where
people clean your sunglasses on the beach. It was a reasonable
four-star one.
There’s
a big misconception about hotelies that I should probably clear up.
People assume that because we spend our days surrounded by luxury, we
must live in the same glamour. The reality is 4a.m. wake-ups, meals
eaten standing up, cheap living accommodation and, invariably, rain
on our day off. Sounds like a blast, doesn’t it?
But
I loved it. I loved that I was actually being paid to work in the
industry where I did my degree. I loved the satisfied feeling I got
every time a guest thanked me for solving a problem. And I loved that
I could go anywhere in the world for work.
I
especially loved that last part.
But
back to Chuck, who’d been stuck in my head since the minute he’d
walked through the hotel door.
I
guess it was natural, given that I hadn’t had a boyfriend the whole
time I’d been in the city. Flirting and a bit of snogging, yes, but
nothing you could call a serious relationship.
There
wasn’t any time, really, for a social life. That’s why hotelies
hang out so much with each other. No one else has the same hours
free. So, in the absence of other options, Digby and I were each
other’s platonic date. He sounds like the perfect gay best friend,
right? Only he wasn’t gay. He just had no interest in me. Nor I in
him, which made him the ideal companion – hot enough in that
freckle-faced farm-boy way to get into the nightclubs when we
finished work at 1 or 2a.m., but not the type to go off shagging and
leave me to find my way home on the subway alone.
‘I
hope you’re happy,’ Andi said to me one morning a few days later.
The thing about Andi is that she looks annoyed even when she’s not,
so you’ve got to pay attention to her words rather than the severe
expression on her narrow face. Nothing annoyed Andi like other
people’s happiness.
But
I had just taken my first morning sip of caramel latte. Who wouldn’t
be happy?
‘You’ve
got another assignment,’ she said. ‘That Christmas party. You’re
on it.’
‘But
I’m on reception.’ My heart was beating faster. She could only be
talking about one Christmas party.
‘Yes,
and you’re not going to get any extra time for the party, so don’t
even think about it. I can’t spare anyone right now. You’ll have
to juggle. He’s coming in at eleven to see the spaces and hopefully
write a big fat cheque, but I want you back here as soon as you’re
finished. Consider it an early lunch break.’
Even
though my mind warned me to stop questioning, in case she changed her
mind, I couldn’t resist. ‘Why isn’t Events handling it?’
‘They
would have if he hadn’t asked for you especially. It’s just my
luck that it’s a huge party. We can’t exactly say no.’
‘I’m
sorry.’
‘Then
wipe that stupid grin off your face and next time try not to be so
frickin’ nice.’
‘I
need to use the loo,’ I told her.
‘Pee
on your own time,’ she said.
I
didn’t really have to go, despite the industrial-size caramel
latte. I just wanted to put on some make-up before Chuck arrived.
Instead he’d see my green eyes unhighlighted by the mascara and
flicky eyeliner that I rarely remembered to use. Pinching my cheeks
did bring up a bit of colour behind my freckles, at least.
Every
time the revolving doors swung round, I looked up to see if it was
Chuck.
‘You’re
going to get repetitive strain in your neck,’ Digby pointed out.
‘And you know our workmen’s comp sucks, so save yourself the
injury. Besides, you look too eager when you stare at the door like
that.’
‘I’m
putting on a convivial welcome for our guests,’ I said. ‘Just
like it says in the Employee’s Manual.’
He
shook his head. ‘There’s no way that what you’re thinking is in
the manual.’
The
weather had turned cold, which was the perfect excuse for woolly
tights and cosy knits or, if you were Chuck, a navy pea coat with the
collar turned up that made him look like he’d been at sea. In a
suit and dress shoes.
‘I’m
so sorry I’m late,’ he said. ‘I hate wasting people’s time.’
‘It’s
not a waste,’ I told him. ‘I’m just working.’ I caught Andi’s
glare. ‘I mean, I’m on reception. I can show you the rooms any
time you want.’
Anytime
you want,
Digby mimicked behind Chuck’s back. Luckily Andi didn’t catch
him.
‘Thanks
for agreeing to take on the party,’ he said as we shared the lift
to the top floor. ‘Not that I gave your colleagues much of a
choice. I told them I’d book the party if you were the one
organising it. I hope you don’t mind. It’s just that you seemed …
I don’t know, I got a good feeling about you.’
‘No,
that’s fine,’ I said, willing my voice to sound calmer than I
felt. Which meant anything short of stark raving mad. ‘Once you
decide which room is most suitable, we can start talking about
everything else.’
‘I
knew you’d get it,’ he said.
The
lift doors opened on the top floor into the wide entrance to the
former restaurant. ‘As you can see, there’s still a lot of the
original nineteen thirties decor,’ I said. ‘Especially these art
deco wall sconces. I love them. Ooh, and look at that bar.’
I’d
only been up there a few times, so I was as excited as Chuck as we
ran around the room pointing out each interesting feature, from the
geometrically mirrored pillars to the sexy-flapper-lady light
fixtures.
‘I’m
such a sucker for this old stuff,’ he said. ‘I grew up in a house
full of antiques. Older than this, actually, in Chicago.’ Then he
considered me. ‘You probably grew up in a castle from the middle
ages or something, being English.’
‘That
sounds draughty. No, my parents live in a nineteen fifties
semi-detached with pebble-dash.’
‘I
don’t know what any of that means except for the nineteen fifties,
but it sounds exotic.’
‘Hardly.
Let’s just say it looks nothing like this. Will this be big enough,
though? You said up to four hundred. That might be a squeeze if we
want to seat them all.’
‘My
guest list has halved, actually,’ he said, shoving his hands into
his coat pockets. ‘The company isn’t letting spouses and partners
come. Isn’t that weird, to exclude them from a formal social event
like that? It’s going to be black tie with dinner and dancing. They
were always invited wherever I’ve worked before.’
The
painful penny dropped with a clang. Of course he’d have the perfect
girlfriend to bring along. A bloke that cute and nice wasn’t
single.
‘Which
company?’ I asked, covering my disappointment. ‘Your company now,
I mean.’
‘Flable
and Mead. The asset managers? Sorry, I should have said before.’
Of
course I’d heard of them. They were only one of the biggest firms
on Wall Street. No wonder Andi had to say yes when Chuck made his
request. We were talking big money.
And
big egos. ‘I’m not surprised that other halves aren’t invited,’
I told him. Surely he’d worked out why for himself. ‘They usually
aren’t invited in the UK either. The Christmas do is your chance to
get pissed and snog a colleague.’
Chuck
laughed. ‘I’m really glad I’ve seen all those Hugh Grant movies
so I know what you’re talking about. So maybe it’ll be everyone’s
chance at Flable and Mead to snog a colleague too.’ When he smiled,
a dimple appeared on his left side. Just the one. ‘And as you’re
working with me to organise the party, I guess that makes you my
colleague, right?’
Did
he mean what I thought he meant? The cheeky sod. ‘Come on, I’ll
show you the ballroom.’
But
the ballroom had nowhere near the ambiance of the top floor, and I
knew before Chuck said anything that it didn’t have the right feel.
Whereas upstairs had character and charm, the ballroom had bling. I’d
only known Chuck for a matter of hours, but already I knew he wasn’t
the blingy type.
‘Definitely
upstairs,’ he said. ‘So it’s done. We’ll book it. Now we just
need to plan all the decorations, the food, the band, DJ. I guess the
fee goes up depending on how much in-house stuff we use.’ He
laughed. ‘I’m sorry, I really am in too deep here. I talked my
way into my job. I have no idea how. My boss is a Northwestern alum
like me and that must have swung it for me. Before I only worked
organising conferences and a few parties at the local VFW hall. This
is the big time.’
I
knew exactly how he felt. When I first started at the hotel I had to
pinch myself. There I was, about to live a life I’d only seen on
telly. All I had to do was not muck things up. Digby had been on hand
to show me the ropes when I needed it. So the least I could do for
Chuck was to help him as much as I could.
That’s
what I told myself. I was paying it forward.
‘We’ve
got a range of decorations we can do,’ I told him, thinking about
how much I was going to get to see him in the upcoming weeks. I could
really stretch things out by showing him one tablecloth per visit.
‘And we work with a few good catering companies, who I’m sure can
arrange anything from a sit-down meal to a buffet. One even does
burger bars, if you want something more quirky.’
‘What
I’ll want is for you to help me, Rosie. You will be able to do
that, right?’
‘Of
course,’ I said. ‘Whatever you need. It’s a whopping great fee
your company is paying. That buys a lot of hand-holding.’
‘I
was hoping you’d say that,’ he said. ‘The second I came in and
saw you, I knew this was the right choice. We’re going to be great
together, Rosie.’
I
was thinking the exact same thing.
Buy The Big Dreams Beach Hotel here
Review
The Big Dreams Beach Hotel has a brilliant cast of eccentric and very memorable characters. They are only topped by the American Floridean-like takeover of the Scarborough hotel, which is quintessentially English. Trying to bring two completely different cultures together becomes a bit of a liability for everyone involved. Flamingos don't look good on the English coast, the North Sea is always freezing and a funny shade of beige-brown, and the majority of people would rather eat a good fry-up than a plate of pretty looking nouvelle cuisine.
Rosie is smack bang in the middle of the battle to save the hotel from the enthusiastic and often ruthless clutches of the new owners. She is torn between the loyalty she feels for her friends and the handsome mediator/fixer the owners have sent in to represent their interests.
Rosie has been dealt a harsh hand in life when it comes to trust. Her career, her friendships and her relationships have suffered, because of her poor judgement and naivety. The question is whether she can manage to put the past behind her, establish new relationships, and deal with her trust issues.
On a side-note, I'm with Chef by the way, when it comes to the chocolate sell-out issue. I haven't bought or touched a Creme Egg since they changed the recipe either. Power to the people!
Bartlett manages to capture the oddities of the English, especially those living on the east coast in Scarborough. They don't take kindly to change or to anyone trying to mess with their bingo. The charm of Scarborough is actually the nostalgic feeling of the past, so any attempt to disturb that feeling of a romantic seaside town would never go down well.
It is a story filled with many moments that should remind us of our humanity. The way we should care and look out for each other. Stand together in times of difficulty. This is especially the case in this story, because the characters are outsiders, lonely forgotten people and flamboyant eccentrics, which makes it even more important that we don't let them fall through the cracks of society.
Lilly Bartlett writes captivating romcoms with a subtle underlying flair of sociocultural issues.
Buy The Big Dreams Beach Hotel at AmazonUk or go to Goodreads for any other retailer.
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